


told you before, i've never loved you more

by becauseitrhymes



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Happy Ending, Harry's swallows, Insecure Harry, Insecurity, Louis tattoos Harry, M/M, Sad Harry, Sad Louis, Unrequited Love, except not really, harry's tattoos, it's all a little sad, louis is a tattoo artist, tattoo parlor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 06:50:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5196299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becauseitrhymes/pseuds/becauseitrhymes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’ll admit that he and Harry aren’t all that close.Not as close as he'd like. Harry always seems shy and bashful when he comes to the parlour, even when Louis is there, happy and bright and trying to get him out of his shell. Louis has seen him loose, like when Zayn, Niall, Harry and he all go out to the bar or something. He seems to be completely comfortable around Niall, and one of his other friends, Liam, but he always just gets quiet and red faced around Louis. Harry is naturally quiet and Louis gets that, he just wishes Harry weren’t as persistent with hiding how he feels. Louis would surely tell Harry straight up about how he reciprocates this desire, this pining for the other boy.</p><p>	Niall and Zayn said that it’s definitely because of the fact that Harry is undeniably infatuated. Louis just wants to know why an angel like Harry Styles would want to fall in love with someone mundane as Louis.</p><p> </p><p>The one where Louis is a tattoo artist, Harry's a shy, insecure little sweetheart and they both really love eachother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	told you before, i've never loved you more

**Author's Note:**

> This is appalling and i wrote it practically decades ago. i have no clue about what the point of this work is and i'm really sorry if it's crappy, i just wanted to do something with it. enjoy if you can hehe :)

The bell rings as the door to the shop opens.

“Harry!” Louis grins as he looks up from the template he’s drawing.

Harry steps into the studio and gives the artist a shy grin.

“Harry, mate, good to see you,” Zayn greets him with a hug from over the front desk of the tattoo parlour, opening the client book and skimming through the list. “You booked for today?”

Harry nods and looks at the book.

He sees his name, ‘Harry Styles, 8:35pm, with Louis’ scrawled in Zayn’s writing and points to it.

“Ah, alright, you know you don’t need to book, right? You’re the favourite customer, ‘specially with Tommo.”

“He’s too organized, Z. Probably wouldn’t dare think of coming in without booking three weeks in advance.” Louis says from behind Harry and slings an arm over his shoulder with bright eyes. Harry looks down, bashful at the contact, averting his eyes and instead watching his friend’s ink stained fingertips. “Except I am not as organized as you, Harold, so I didn’t know you were coming in today. I’m glad though.”

Harry smiles at Louis then, meeting his ocean eyes. “‘M glad too.” He says softly.

“What’re you getting today, then, Harold? Have you any references?” Louis ruffles his hair and begins walking towards the back of the shop where all the equipment is, signalling for Harry to follow. The tall boy gives Zayn a quick wave and then trails behind.

“I, um, I drew these birds and I liked them, and mum thinks they would look nice, right here,” Harry points to just under his collar bones, “so I thought to get them done. Maybe if you could make them look a little more unrealistic, though? Like, kind of cartoonish? But still, like, nice.” Harry opens his sketchbook and flips to the most recent page that’s adorned with a pair of swallows, shielding the other pages from Louis so he can’t see the countless drawings of blue eyes and golden skin and feathered brown hair.

Louis takes the book from Harry and looks over the drawing of the birds with a small smile.

“Your drawings are always so lovely, princess.” Louis meets his eyes and his smile widens. “You know, birds don’t have eyebrows?”

The taller of the two blushes, an immense red taking over his pale cheeks, partly because of the way Louis calls him princess (he’s done it since they met, he says it’s because Harry has curls like a crown and is too pretty to be a prince), partly because he’d been somewhat caught out with the not-so-subtle reference to he and Louis, and partly because Louis just complimented him.

And that means a whole lot to Harry, because having the guy you’re in love with compliment you on the result of your passion will always be a wonderful thing.

Harry’s been in love with Louis practically since he first step foot in the shop to get his first tattoo when he turned eighteen. He’s been coming to the same shop, to the same artist (Louis, obviously), since then. And not one piece of ink on his body isn’t Louis’ doing. 

When Harry drew the birds, he was bored and needed something else to do rather than listen to Niall’s rambles about his sickly-sweet relationship with Zayn. So he had locked himself in his bedroom and drawn the first thing that came to mind, which ended up being a pair of birds, but he’d started thinking of Louis, and well, he didn’t mean to, but he’d somehow drawn his and Louis’ eyebrow shapes on the stupid things, and then he thought about how in love he is and wanted to get it tattooed by the same boy who inspired it. 

And he knows that maybe getting a tattoo dedicated to an unrequited love that the other side doesn’t even know about may not be the best idea, but he doesn’t care.

“I’ll draw you a stencil, yeah? I’ll be half an hour, tops.” Louis hip checks him and then walks off to the desk where all his drawing equipment is. Harry follows him, so he can make sure he doesn’t move from the page with the birds, since the page behind that is a drawing of Louis (and so is the page before that, and the one before that, and well, most of the pages are portraits of Louis.) and he definitely does not want him to see that.

. .. … .. . 

It’s twenty three minutes and two cups of tea made by Zayn before Louis jumps up from his swivel-chair with a cheek-splitting grin and grabs Harry by the arm to drag him to a chair lined with crinkly paper. 

“I’m done! This is going to look sick on you, Harold, it really will. D’you want to take your shirt off, please?” He sits Harry down gently on the chair.

Harry nods, slowly, unsurely, and pulls off his soft shirt. It gets caught on his bun and Louis laughs, before helping him out. The taller boy likes to thinks that’s how it’d be if they were married.

Louis wipes Harry’s skin where the tattoo is going gently with a wet towelette, and then presses the drawing onto his collarbones, peeling it off to reveal the outline of two birds.

“Looks great, princess. This is going to be so cool. Right then, you ready?” Louis picks up the needle and dips it in the ink, then signals for Harry to lay back in the cool, leather chair.

Harry looks up at Louis. “Is this a painful spot, Lou?” 

Louis looks back to him and gives him a pat on the shoulder. “You know what, Harold, yes, it is. But you’re strong. You got this one,” Louis points to the ferns on his hips (it makes Harry want to shrink in on himself because the guy he’s infatuated with is looking at one of his ugliest parts of his body), “and these two,” He points to the birdcage as well, “both hurt you like hell, but you smiled the whole time. You’ll be fine, and if you need a break, tell me straight away.”

Harry is grateful he has such a kind friend.

Louis then touches the needle to his skin, and then starts the outline.

“So why do you want this one? You always have a meaning behind your tattoos, what’s this one?” Louis hides the smirk. He wants Harry to be able to tell him about how he feels when he’s ready, but he’d also really like to just tell Harry he knows, he knows.

Well, Lou, you see, they represent the fact that every time I see your face, I want to just grab you by the hand and fly away, hence the birds, oh, by the way, I’m in love with you, doesn’t deem an appropriate answer to Harry, so he tries to think up a reasonable answer quickly.

“My, uh, my grandpa used to take me birdwatching when I was little and he uh, really liked swallows. Yeah, so, he used to draw them for me and that’s why I draw now. So when he died, I drew one for him that looked like these, and I, uh, yeah.”

Louis smiles at him. “That’s beautiful, Harry.”

Harry wants to cry because actually, his grandfather hates birds and, well, he isn’t dead. More like sitting at home watching football with a cup of tea and whatever weird dinner Harry’s grandma made him this time. 

What Louis doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Yeah, thanks.” He swallows.

“Is it hurting much?” Louis asks after a few moments.

“No, it’s alright at the moment. Hurts more when you’re doing the wings.” 

“That’s good, then. Really good. Make sure you stay nice and still. I wouldn’t want to mess up your pretty chest.”

. .. … .. .

 

“It looks beautiful, Hazza. D’you want to go over to the mirror and look at it? It looks so lovely on you.”

Harry stands up and steps over to the mirror on the other side of the room and he hesitantly looks into the mirror.

Harry’s eyes go wide and he quickly covers his stomach quickly. The birds look beautiful, just how Harry knew they would, but he doesn’t think about that. Aside from the sting of where the tattoos are, all he can think of is how horrible his stomach looks, how horrible his whole body looks, and how Louis has been looking at it for the past two and a half hours.

“‘Y okay there, Haz?” The small boy crinkles his eyebrows while Harry just nods.

Harry looks away from the mirror, towards the wall, with cheeks that seem to constantly be red, hoping his movement goes unnoticed by the other boy.

Louis notices.

“Harry, please look at me.” He whispers and Harry keeps his eyes trained on the wall. There’s soft fingers on his cheek, and then Louis pushes his face slowly so Harry has no choice but to look at him.

“What’s wrong? Is it bad?”

Harry keeps his face where it is, but closes his eyes. Louis has no clue what’s going through the boy’s mind, and that worries him. 

He’ll admit that he and Harry aren’t all that close. Harry always seems shy and bashful when he comes to the parlour, even when Louis is there, happy and bright and trying to get him out of his shell. Louis has seen him loose, like when Zayn, Niall, Harry and he all go out to the bar or something. He seems to be completely comfortable around Niall, and one of his other friends, Liam, but he always just gets quiet and red faced around Louis. Harry is naturally quiet and Louis gets that, he just wishes Harry weren’t as persistent with hiding how he feels. Louis would surely tell Harry straight up about how he reciprocates this desire, this pining for the other boy.

Niall and Zayn said that it’s definitely because of the fact that Harry is undeniably infatuated. Louis just wants to know why an angel like Harry Styles would want to fall in love with someone mundane as Louis.

Louis furrows his eyebrows more, trying to figure out why Harry is getting so closed off and uncomfortable.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” He wants to see Harry’s eyes again, wants to see those green-as-emerald-city eyes, wants him to open them and tell Louis why he’s just become so upset.

He turns his head, trying to hide the tears, but Louis know they’re there, like he knows the sun comes out in the day, like he knows the leaves change in the autumn. He knows.

“Why are you crying, love? Do you not like it? Have I said something? Please, Hazza, tell me.” Louis softly strokes his cheek.

“You’re so pretty, Louis.” Harry squeaks out. Louis’ face turns to look confused. “You’re so- you look so nice and I’m, I’m like, nothing.” 

“Pardon? Harry, what? What’re you saying?” Louis moves to stand in front of the mirror, blocks Harry’s view of himself in the process, and Harry looks a little relieved. Oh. No.

“Oh, god, Harry, no, please, no. You’re so pretty, too pretty to think like that. Please, princess, no.” Louis cups his cheek and catches one of the tears with his thumb. 

“‘M not pretty, Lou. Never pretty. Ugly. So, so ugly.”

This breaks Louis’ heart. His face pales and he frowns. He loves this boy, loves him with all his heart. And he never, never wants Harry thinking he’s not just absolutely fucking astoundingly beautiful in every single way possible. He looks down, at the pretty hips and the butterfly and the slight tummy that he just adores and then looks at Harry’s new tattoo. 

It’s red and looks sore but it just looks beautiful, looks incredible on his skin, accentuating his collar bones and making the pale skin look increasingly milkier. 

Then he notes all the things he adores about Harry, because there’s a lot. He maps out constellations in the barely-there freckles and he recognizes their differences, their height, where Harry is a good head taller than him, the massive, clumsy hands and the tiny nimble ones. He also recognizes their similarities, like how they’re both in love and both of them have tears falling down their face.

“Y-you.” Louis whispers. “You are the most stunning thing that could ever walk the earth, Harry Styles. This stupid world doesn’t deserve beauty like yours, and neither do I, Harry, but I just can’t help myself. Who the fuck could? You’re a gift and a miracle and a fucking moron for not seeing that. Jesus, Harold.” Louis can barely hold himself together, and he’s crying and so is Harry and they both just look like two fools. 

Two fools in fucking love.

Harry smiles weakly at that, and Louis’ heart clenches. It’s a terribly nice feeling.

“You’re so bloody perfect, Harry. So much more perfect than any sunset and any voice and any star. I just- you’re just perfect.”

Harry sobs and lunges onto Louis, clinging to his arm like he’s a lost child who has just found his mother.

“I can’t- you don’t love me, though and y-you-”

Louis silences him with a kiss. It’s messy and slow and it’s awkward- it’s a first kiss, and they don’t yet know their way around each other’s mouths. It’s not like fireworks or electricity- but it’s exactly the same as Louis remembers it from his dreams.

It’s perfect, and it’s quiet, and it’s slow, deep, and intoxicating. Louis cannot get enough.

Louis pulls away, but it’s only so he can speak. “I fucking adore you, Harry Styles, and I’m blindly in love with you and I don’t want to hear you say that, ever again. It physically hurts, princess, when you call yourself ugly.” He touches where the dimple would show if Harry were to smile. He wants Harry to smile. “Keep your head up, princess. Keep that crown up there.” He traces over Harry’s scalp.

Harry smiles a little then, only slightly, but it’s enough for Louis to fucking grin, and then push their lips back together.

“I’m kind of in love with you, too.” Harry looks down and Louis follows his gaze to the birds on his chest. “Eyebrows, see.” Harry simply says.

“I know, Harold. I know.”

The younger boy looks a little confused for a second, before he blushes and hides the blush by kissing Louis.

“How did--?”

“Birds don’t have eyebrows, Princess.”

. .. … .. .


End file.
